Take my hand and fight for me
by Gemmaaaaa
Summary: This was supposed to be a happy day, a day a father-to-be anticipated from the moment he found about the child. But not Anakin. Since Padme told him about the baby, the prospect of this day brought only dread and sickening worry that tore his exhausted mind apart. Part of him, however terrible it was, wished that this day would never come.


Supreme Chancellor Palpatine was dead.

Somehow, even now the words failed to reconcile themselves within the Jedi's mind. Perhaps it was because of the knowledge – the _truth_ – of who the Supreme Chancellor was behind the mask of the kindly elder man now throbbed in the forefront of Obi-wan's mind. Darth Sidious had walked among them all, and not one of them had sensed it. Not one of them had _suspected it_. The Force was far more clouded than anyone on the Council had ever believed, and he feared they may never reconnect with it as strongly as they once had. If they'd been so separated from the truth, so ignorant to the darkness right before them, what else might they have missed, Obi-wan wondered to himself, one hand stroking long fingers through the neatly trimmed scruff of his beard.

Such thoughts troubled the Jedi, and deeply so. Decades Palpatine had been around, pulling the strings, whispering into the ears of those who carried great influence within the Galaxy until he'd gained enough of it for himself that his whispers became booming commands within the Senate and yet no one had seen it. His dark touch spanned all the way back to Senator Amidala's days as Queen of Naboo, when Obi-wan had been just a Padawan himself studying under Qui-gon's tutelage… Perhaps it could even be traced back even further if they looked hard enough.

He'd heard recently, the story of Darth Plagueis the Wise and his traitorous apprentice and it worried Obi-wan greatly. Had the Jedi truly been so distracted for so long? Had they become every bit as dogmatic and prideful as Palpatine had claimed in those final, dangerous days? Though it grieved him to admit, he was beginning to believe the Sith had been right about them. And _that_ meant it was time to reflect, to shut themselves away from the Galaxy and ponder the path that lay ahead.

Matters couldn't remain as they were, the Jedi code in its current form bred rebellion, it led to secrecy and deception both of which lend themselves easily to the Dark side. As the twilight fell upon Coruscant, the first nightfall for the Republic without Darth Sidious' evil touch in at the very least a decade, Obi-wan watched the flow of the sky-traffic whiz onwards, blissfully ignorant for now of what news the morning would bring. The death of the Chancellor had been kept strictly under wraps until the Senate could reorganise itself and prepare for what was to come. But come morning, the holonet news outlets would receive the message, Force help them. Each speeder and cruiser carried beings who'd loved Palpatine, who'd agreed with his policies, who'd read and listened to the biased holonet news praise the man for all that he did in times of war. Even as he planned to stamp their freedoms beneath the heel of his Senatorial slipper, Palpatine's approval rating had been higher in those last days than it ever had been.

It was the war, he told himself… It had to be the effect of the Clone Wars. Palpatine had _geniusly_ manoeuvred himself to appear to be a strong war-time leader, the face of justice and righteousness against the Separatists. That's what Obi-wan had to believe. That there was a possibility that the people had perhaps seen Palpatine for who he truly was and followed him anyway was… Well, he was ill at ease, to say the least. Not even a nice glass of the finest Corellian brandy could soothe his nerves this evening. Despite the end of the evil threat looming over the Republic, there would be others to follow in Palpatine's footsteps, those who knew everything he had been and everything he had planned to do and _desired_ that it happen. They'd seep from the ground like worms, and in numbers he couldn't bring himself to fathom.

But that was not all that concerned Obi-wan this night, though he wished that it was. He sensed a great turmoil within the Force, a guilt and joy so entwined that parting them was impossible. Obi-wan could sense Anakin from where he stood, high, high up inside the dimly lit High Council chambers. The man who'd once been his apprentice had been the one to take the life of the Sith in one Galaxy altering, split second decision which would, in turn, change them all forever. And the choice had devastated the young man by all accounts. Palpatine's influence over Anakin had been… _Troubling_ at best. The pair were inseparable, with the Chancellor's whispers twisting the boy's mind against all that was right, the very Republic, and Jedi Order.

Anakin was no ordinary Jedi, and not simply because he'd been anointed as the Chosen One by Qui-gon before his death. He was bold, courageous, _and fearless_ even. And he loved. He loved his mother while she'd lived, even while they'd been apart, he loved that ridiculous loose-wired astromech that followed him everywhere and much, much more dangerously, Anakin loved Senator Amidala. Obi-wan had always known about his feelings for the Senator, but other than a few warnings over the years, had turned a blind eye to what he'd always assumed was a love affair between the two. It seemed to make Anakin happy. And Obi-wan was a hypocrite. He'd loved a woman once, had been on the precipice of leaving the Jedi Order to be with her once. He _knew_ how it felt to be in Anakin's shoes. The fact of the matter was, he loved Anakin. They were brothers. Linked forever by the Force in partnership. And Obi-wan wanted him to be happy.

He only wished he could have been surprised to hear that what he'd believed to be an affair was truly three and a half years of marriage. _Marriage_. If he'd known the full extent of it, of how deeply their connection had ran… Well, Obi-wan wasn't sure what he might have done. And it was best not to linger on what might have been. So his mind turned instead to the present, and the Jedi's body heaved a great sigh. The Council would debate Anakin's future within the Order at another time. And he wasn't sure which side of the vote he would stand within. This answer would come to him in time after reflection and healing had taken place.

His fingers stroked his beard again as he spotted in the distance the sleek looming tower of 500 Republica and just barely battled back another sigh. What was to come next worried him deeply. He'd barely had time to speak with Anakin since his return from Utapau, but what little he'd managed to pull from the younger man's mouth wasn't good. Dreams, nightmares, prophetic visions that mirrored images he'd seen in the past concerning his mother's death, however this time they focused on Senator Amidala.

Senator Amidala's death birthing Anakin's children. Such a short statement, yet it carried the very weight of the Galaxy within it. Any child of Anakin's blood was bound to be powerful, perhaps just as powerful as their father… That power would attract the scum of the Galaxy seeking to take advantage. The child should be raised within the Order, trained by the greatest Masters to hone their skills and make good use of the Force. But Obi-wan wasn't a fool. Neither Anakin nor Padme would willingly surrender a child to the Order, even if there were changes made to the code. And if Padme were to perish like in the dreams… If the _child_ were to perish with her… Obi-wan brought a shaking hand upwards to cover his mouth as suddenly, he felt _sick_ with horror at what Anakin could become in such a state of grief. Any mere man would shatter beneath the weight of such loss but _Anakin_ … The darkness Palpatine sensed within him was the very same danger Master Yoda warned of in his training. It was there, it had always been there, simmering just beneath the surface, awaiting its chance to escape and if Anakin lost Padme…

Obi-wan could sense it now, the shifting of the Force, the way it seemed to unravel and then coil itself together into a tight knot over and over again. The tension as thick as smoke within it. Something was changing, something was happening, coming into this world and he knew exactly what it was that he sensed. It had begun. Padme's labour with the child was in motion and nothing could be done to change its outcome now.

Force help them all.

* * *

The med-droid cooed soothing sounds programmed into its software though no being in the room paid the soft beeps any hint of attention. The EW-3 was the latest model in medical research and female aftercare for all beings, Anakin had researched the droid heavily in the past day and a half, locked away inside Padme's Varykino office partly to know how well he could trust his beloved's life into its sterile hands, and part to avoid Padme and her questions. To avoid talking about Palpatine and what'd happened in that office. He wasn't ready, the wound was too raw and painful and still, Anakin wasn't sure he'd made the correct choice. Now it was happening, the babies were coming into the Galaxy and he knew _nothing_ of how to save Padme from his dreams. He might have sacrificed her very _life_ for his soul in that office and Anakin would never forgive himself for it.

This was supposed to be a happy day, a day a father-to-be anticipated from the moment he found out about the child. But not Anakin. Since Padme told him about the baby, the prospect of this day brought only dread and sickening worry that tore his exhausted mind apart. Part of him, however terrible it was, wished that this day would never come, that there was no baby – _babies –_ to be born and risk Padme's life. And he hated himself for it. He _wanted_ to feel excited to look forward to holding his little ones in his arms but he _couldn't._ Not until Padme was safe.

Padme's body rocked upwards off of the birthing bench as she released a long howl of agony, squeezing Anakin's cybernetic hand so tightly that if it'd been his flesh, it probably would have hurt. But he cared nothing about his pain now. This had gone on too long, she should have delivered the children hours ago now, he'd heard the midwives whispering it. Her energy was sapped and worse, her _will_ was depleting by the moment. The modesty sheet built into the bench that had been lifted to shield Padme's body from the eyes in the room had long since been removed, freeing her legs to spread further apart in an effort to further her labour. It'd been unsuccessful, and now closer to morning than night, the birthing continued.

Padme's hair, which had been down, curly and free about her shoulders was now damp with sweat and stuck to her face and neck, no matter how many times Anakin had brushed it away while whispering frantic words of encouragement, her cheeks earlier had been rosy and full of life were drained, a terrible, sickly pale that screamed of the lack of energy she had left. He felt sick and angry and he _utterly_ hated himself. If he'd only helped Palpatine this wouldn't be happening… He could be _helping_ her!

"It's alright, Angel… It's going to be alright." Anakin forced himself to say for the hundredth time in the past hour. "You're strong; I know you can do this!" She didn't answer but instead cried out again a high pitched sound of strain and the burn of the pain. It broke his heart to see her like this, teeth bared wildly against the agony; eyes clenched shut to endure contraction after contraction as they tore her apart. He turned to the older humanoid midwife who peered between Padme's legs and shared a worried glance with the male Twi'lek. What was her name again? She'd introduced herself upon her arrival earlier… Ah, right. Astrid. "Can't you do something?" He hissed. " _Anything_?"

Padme's howls bled into pained sobs as tears melted into the sweat upon her beautiful face and Anakin carefully freed his hand from hers to approach the pair while the EW-3 continued useless chanting. "Listen," the Astrid fretted, "The Senator's condition is deteriorating faster than we can keep up with. I haven't seen a labour like this in all my years of midwifery." The woman was round and full, her face was friendly enough, but now it was almost as pale as Padme's and worry lines cracked her skin. Her hushed whisper fell even quieter as something worse than dread formed a knot inside Anakin's stomach. It was happening… His dream was coming true and he didn't know how to stop it. _It was his fault! He killed Palpatine and now Padme was dying_ …

"What can you do?" He barked, louder than he intended. "There must be _something_ you can do!" The Twi'lek man, Crix, stepped forward, all browns and greens which masked well the worry he felt at the condition of his patient but Anakin could sense it just the same.

"What we _can_ do, is operate to save the babies. We're not sure there's much more we can do to help the Senator. I'm so sorry."

Something dark within Anakin roared to life, his fists clenched by either side of his body and the room seemed to tremble beneath his rage for a moment. _No!_ They couldn't just give up on her like this – he wouldn't _let_ them. "Don't you dare," he seethed, "Save them! Save the three of them!"

"But, General Skywalker!" The woman cried, and Anakin almost hissed that he was no General anymore. The war was over. "I fear there is a great chance that we could lose all of them if quick work isn't done to save the children. I understand this is an impossible choice but –"

"Anakin?" Padme's weak voice called out, and at once, the Jedi was by his wife's side, clasping her weak hand between both of his own, whispering assurances once more. She was going to live, she _had_ to live. Both she and the children were going to survive this; he swore it to the very Force itself. "Something's wrong." She panted, reaching down toward the swell of her stomach deliriously. "The babies… Aren't coming… Something isn't right." Tears filled her eyes again and her lip trembled suddenly he could think of _nothing_ to say to make this any better.

"The children's heartbeat are weakening!" Crix called, tying something into the monitor turned away from their view.

"Nn…" Padme groaned, "No! No, you have to save them!"

"Padme, they're going to be fine, I _promise_ ," Anakin swore, pressing his lips to her fingers. The doctors _couldn't_ operate, their focus would be on the babies, not Padme and she could die – he needed all three of them alive! There had to be another way. There was _always_ a way out, a way to save the day… He just needed a little more time to figure it out. But they didn't _have_ time. His babies were _dying_ and his wife wouldn't be far behind them and suddenly his knees began to shake. _He could lose them all_.

"That's it. We have permission from the mother to operate, Crix please begin to sterilise the tools and I'll inject the –" Astrid began, slipping a fresh pair of bright blue gloves over her fingers and Anakin forced himself to stand tall once more.

"You're not injecting her with _anything!_ And you!" His body swivelled toward the male who'd wrapped his fingers around a sickeningly thin, long blade. Anakin felt himself pale at the sight of it despite his anger. "You're not coming _near_ her with that!" He could only _imagine_ what sort of harm that tool would inflict upon Padme, and he'd kill the pair of them himself in they so much as tried it.

"Alright, that's it." The woman squared her shoulders. "Sir, I don't want to have you removed, but if you stand in the way of us saving our patient, then I'll have no choice."

"Your patients are my wife _and_ my children!"

She ignored Anakin's plea and looked past him, to where Padme lay, writhing and crying out distress. "Senator… _Padme_ … I need you to stop pushing now, alright? Just breathe. It's all going to be over soon." Padme's hand lifted toward him, silently asking him to return to her side, a request he immediately obliged. Their fingers laced together, and though she attempted to squeeze his hand, the motion was faint and Anakin barely felt it.

" _Listen_ to me…" She gasped, eyes barely opened "Save our babies, Ani… I don't care what happens to me." Tears slipped from her eyes and downward, creating a wet path along her colourless cheeks and whether they were born from the strain she was under or the heartache of the demand, Anakin neither knew nor desired to. Either way, they broke his heart and tears of his own sprung into his eyes. No… No, it couldn't end this way. _They_ weren't going to end this way… Not after _everything_ they'd been through to simply be together, it couldn't be ripped away right as their lives were about to begin! Her face crumpled suddenly, " _I love you, Anakin_." The words were high-pitched and desperate, she was breathless and even weaker than before and he reached back to cup her neck in his palm, supporting her tired head.

"No, don't you do that, Angel… Don't say your goodbyes!" Despite the fact they were being watched by the midwives, Anakin felt his voice crack pathetically as his throat began to close up. She was slipping away. He was losing her! "Come on, Angel, _come on_ … You're stronger than this! I know you are! I need you to hold on, Padme… Our _babies_ need you to hold on!" He gripped her hand tighter, holding her head up as she could not.

"I – I _can't_ …" Padme whimpered and found the strength to pry open her eyes to meet his desperate gaze.

"You _can_! Come on, Angel. One last try, come on… Give it everything, Padme, come on…"

"We need to operate _now_!" Astrid declared, but neither Skywalker tore their eyes away from the other. Padme could do this, _they_ could do this. She nodded slightly, eyes falling shut again, squeezed tightly in concentration and bracing against the pain. Her back arched as she began to push once more and the droid awaited between her legs.

"That's it, Padme, that's it!" He encouraged loudly, and within himself, Anakin reached deeply to the Force, wielding it, begging it to surround his beloved and help her, to keep her alive. He focused on her face, on the ever weakening thumping of the twins' heartbeats and willed that they live, all three of them. In that moment, Padme sat straighter, screaming at the top of her lungs at the pain of it all, and set her jaw, grinding it in slow circles as the EW-3 chanted encouragingly.

"By the Force…" Crix cried, "It's working! Keep going, Senator! I can see the head!"

"That's it, Padme! You're doing it! They're coming now… Come on…"

A moment passed, and then, the most delightfully relieving sound filled the air, louder than Padme's cries, the piercing wail of an infant utterly distressed at being brought into the world, out of their mother's warmth. Anakin's heart dropped into his stomach as Astrid passed the squirming pink bundle of tiny limbs immediately into the heated cradling paddle of the birthing droid to be checked over for any immediate illnesses. "Force, Padme, you did it!" Tears of a new kind filled Anakin's eyes, a joyous, amazed kind and he couldn't look away from the little thing as it kicked and screamed toward the droid. The droid's diagnostic servers lit up to measure the child's heartbeat and one tense moment later, through the softly voiced beeps, the baby was declared in perfect health and Anakin's legs buckled.

"What is it?" Padme panted, head lolling slightly to the left as she took a moment's rest before the next one came along.

The droid's anti-gravity repulsorlifts drew it close to Anakin offering the little one to his arms and through he trembled like a Naboo leaf in the wind; he gently eased the child into the crook of his arm, cradling the head after being chastised by the Crix for not doing so right away. "A boy…" He laughed, amazed and teary. The boy scrunched his _perfect_ little face up toward his father and kicked high into the air with his pink legs and two more tears made their way onto the Jedi's face. He had a son… He had a little boy… After a moment, blue eyes blinked their way open and Anakin's breath fled his lungs. He was so _beautiful_. The most perfect little creature that ever existed.

After another moment of admiration of the squirming bundle of joy in his arms, Anakin carefully fell to his knees by the birthing bench holding the boy up to meet his mother. He wished she had enough strength to take him for herself, but that she was able to open her eyes was a miracle within itself right now. "Angel, look at him…" He breathed, "He's perfect."

Slowly, Padme's hand rose to brush the backs of her fingers softly against the baby's smooth cheek as tears gathered in the corners of her eyes at the sight of him. "Oh, Ani…" She sighed. "I told you he was a boy…"

Anakin laughed, effortlessly, full of exhaustion and relief and the strong sense that this was not over for them yet. But, the moment's reprieve was beautiful. "Give it a few minutes, my love. We both could be right." All they needed was the girl he'd imagined and their little family would be complete. The moment passed quickly, however, as another contraction took hold of his love's body, forcing her to push against it, to bring their second baby into the Galaxy. But this time Anakin couldn't hold her hand or brush her damp hair out of her face, as their son rested quietly in his arms, but he once more fell into the Force and felt the presence of the boy in his arms too as his sibling came closer and closer to the light.

"And she's here! She's here!" Astrid cried, "You have a beautiful baby girl!"

A girl… The little girl he'd wanted all along… Anakin craned his neck to gain a better look at the child from where he knelt as she was passed into the droid's paddle just as her brother had been. He had a daughter. A son and a daughter. Said daughter's wails outmatched her brother's by a Tatooine pod-racing mile, outraged by her new surroundings and at the droid who scanned her vitals. They had a little Princess it seemed.

"Angel, you did it!" Anakin stood and bent to brush his lips against her sweat-dampened brow as she sagged back against the cold bench. The plain white medical shift she'd been helped into was ruined by sweat, the remains of childbirth and far, far too much blood. More than enough to have killed her, he thought, blanching. With a gentle sigh, Padme's head fell lifelessly to the left once more as consciousness abandoned her without allowing her so much as a glance toward their new daughter. But he sensed her life, her heartbeat and they were _strong_ despite what she'd endured and Anakin had never been prouder.

"She's alright," Crix smiled reassuringly, "Her vitals are fine. It's relatively normal for women to lose their consciousness after such a difficult delivery; she should wake up in a few hours." Anakin nodded slightly, far more interested in gazing at the droid which hovered toward him with his baby girl in its clutches. They were alive… His twins were safe and alive… They were here and perfect and Anakin was overwhelmed by the sudden onslaught of _love_ for them that filled his heart. All the dread he'd felt at the prospect of their birth was gone, replaced by something beautiful and _light._ An excitement to meet them properly when they were cleaned and named with their mother awake to hold them in her arms.

Stranger than that, Anakin felt as if he'd been saved. Rescued from himself by these two little things. What might he have done to ensure their safe arrival? Sold his soul to the devil and carried out his demands. Sheev Palpatine was dead and so too were the powers he'd whispered about over life and death. But when Anakin looked into the eyes of his children – no matter how much his daughter screamed at him – he didn't care. He didn't need those powers. He'd trusted in the _light_ and his family were safe. His eyes fell shut in reverence. This was his salvation.

He didn't need titles, or power or respect or trust. Not when Padme was alive, not when his son's little feet kicked upwards toward his face, not when his daughter reached out and he caught her little fist with his finger. He needed only that.

* * *

It was late evening when Anakin returned to the private medical ward that hosted his family after visiting with the Naberrie's and announcing the birth of his children as per Padme's request. Their marriage was known to them, and Anakin had never felt anything less than comfortable with them, they were good people. Good people who were extremely excited to meet their new niece and nephew, grandson and granddaughter come morning… Anakin could hardly wait to share his children with the Galaxy either. The announcement of he and Padme's marriage along with the birth of the twins would be sent out once his wife and children were well enough to leave the medcenter. A mass public scandal awaited them, but neither could care when Luke and Leia were so wonderfully pure and splendidly adorable.

He found Padme awake, still pale from the loss of blood and sitting by the heater, a beautiful Nubian blanket wrapped tightly around her shoulders and Leia in her arms. He stilled by the doorway, leaning his shoulder against the sterile framing as he watched his girls together, mother cooing blissfully down at daughter. "You are more beautiful than I ever thought possible…" Padme whispered bending at the neck to press the gentlest kiss to Leia's little fingers. "You are going to have so many boys wrapped around your little fingers."

"Not if I have any say in it." Anakin chuckled, and Padme lifted her head to greet him with the most beautiful, loving smile he'd ever seen. Now beginning to truly recover from the ordeal of childbirth, she was positively _glowing._

"I don't think you will." Padme beamed toward their little girl in her arms, "She's stubborn, I can already tell."

At this, Anakin barked out a laugh. "Of course she is. Look at her mother."

She threw him a mock glare, which quickly fell away as Leia's little mouth parted in a great yawn. Every little thing she and her brother did, even the most mundane such as _yawning_ somehow melted his heart. How was it possible to love two little things so much? "Well, our son is just like his father. He's been sleeping half the day."

He stepped around her chair to peer down into the clear plastic cradle where Luke slept peacefully, little arms stretched high above his head where one of his soft blue mittens had begun to slip off. Anakin gently eased it back over his tiny little fist and just barely resisted the urge to lift him into his arms. There was no need to wake him… There'd be plenty of time for that when he and his sister demanded attention all through the night.

"Anakin," Padme began squaring her shoulders in that way which meant she'd been rehearsing what she wanted to say. It meant this was important. With a little Force-manipulation, he drew the other chair across the room and sat by his wife's side. Much had to be said by both of them, but for now, he would be a good husband and simply listen to what she had to say. "Just before the twins were born… I felt myself slipping away… Just like in your dream. But it was you who brought me back, beloved. Your voice and your words. If you hadn't been there…" She trailed off with a teary breath and Anakin reached out to stroke his fingers through her soft hair.

"You were so strong, Angel. You could have done it without me." When she shook her head, Anakin pressed on, " _Yes,_ you could. And I'm sorry… I'm sorry that I almost wasn't here. That I almost sided with Palpatine because I believed he would help you. Force only knows how different things would be if I had." He couldn't bear to look at her as he spoke, guilty and full of regret for what he could have become.

"No, Anakin. Don't do that. What might have been doesn't matter. What _matters_ is that you made the right choice. That you're good and kind and a wonderful husband and you're going to be an even better father to these children. We're here." With her free hand, Padme caressed his face, encouraging him to meet her eyes again. "I never thought I would see the day where it is me telling _you_ to live in the moment, but here we are. We're here, and safe because of our love. Nothing will ever get in the way of that again."

Anakin took her hand in his and brought her soft knuckles to his lips for a long moment. " _Never._ " He swore to her, their children and the Force. They fell quiet for several moments as Leia slowly fell asleep in her mother's arms and he revelled in his wife's presence, silently praising the Force for keeping her with him until Padme's head turned suddenly, to look at him with guilty, saddened eyes.

"Does it bother you that we'll never have another one?" She asked quietly and Anakin avoided her eye for a moment, looking instead at Leia's sleeping face. He hadn't allowed himself to think about it truthfully. There'd been too much to do, to settle into to truly think about the future.

"The Force works in mysterious ways… You never know what might happen –"

" _Anakin_." She cut him off, and at last their eyes met. "You heard what the doctor said… After what happened, we'll never have another. That if I _was_ to conceive again, I wouldn't be able to… Does it upset you?" After the trauma brought to her body after the twins' birth, they'd never have another child. At least, not one carried by Padme that was. She was scarred, her body damaged on the inside by the painful labour, so much that conceiving again would be near impossible, and delivering another child out of the question. Anakin couldn't say that the news brought him any joy, he'd always wanted a big family with her one day, and had hoped the twins were just the beginning. But if it was the will of the Force…

" _You_ are enough for me. Luke and Leia are _more_ than enough for me." He smiled, speaking the truth. If his family was to be a small one, Anakin could make his peace with that so long that his beloved little angels were healthy and safe. He loved them so much already. He would be content to watch them grow and see who they would become one day.

"But what if a day comes where we want another? What if Luke and Leia want another sibling?" She fretted, and Anakin laid a kiss to her temple. It was just like her to worry herself sick about this. About what might happen one day, in the far off future when today was so glorious.

"What did you just tell me, Angel? We're here. Let's enjoy the moment. We're not going to worry about anything right now, alright? If that day comes, we'll deal with it. But if Luke and Leia are all we have, then I think we've already got more than enough to be grateful for." Padme leant into Anakin's body, into his touch, his nose brushed lovingly against her cheek and she sighed contently, feeling better for his words.

In just a few days time the Galaxy would know about the Skywalkers and their secrets would be public knowledge, as would their children, but whatever awaited them was a thought for tomorrow. For tonight, Anakin and Padme simply enjoyed their children without thinking of midichlorian counts, of his status within the Jedi or hers within the Senate. For one precious night, the Galaxy was small and quiet and so wonderfully perfect.


End file.
